


Foreign Affairs II

by LtLJ



Series: Hunting Parties Series [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Character of Color, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-31
Updated: 2006-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-02 23:45:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLJ/pseuds/LtLJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They camped in the open only when it was unavoidable, and never in this season, when the rains brought color to the sparse grasses in the gully bottoms. If the Wraith came, it was usually at this time of year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foreign Affairs II

  
The next time they went back to Tasiben, it was because the Tasiben sent for them.

  
"It feels strange to ask for help from offworld," Vanrin admitted.

"Some of the others think it is a waste of effort." Banat shrugged wearily. "I told them it was worth a try."

_It is our only chance,_ Vanrin thought, but kept it to himself.

It was near evening, the sun vanishing behind the distant mountains, and the tribe was camped -- trapped -- on the flat plain of the high desert, far from any sheltering rock. The tents provided the only cover, the material flapping in the dusty wind. They camped in the open only when it was unavoidable, and never in this season, when the rains brought color to the sparse grasses in the gully bottoms. If the Wraith came, it was usually at this time of year.

Few people moved between the tents, all near stumbling from exhaustion. That first night was when the old and the young had fallen ill, and they had been trapped here for seven days now, with too many sick to move. Vanrin and Banat and the garrison who had been guarding the Ring had arrived four days ago in response to messages for help, and since then things had only gotten worse. Doctor had determined that it was poison and not disease, but no one seemed to be getting better and they had to make constant trips to the spring that was nearly a day's ride away; the closer well was probably the source of the poison.

Vanrin put thoughts of imminent death aside and said, "With luck, Readan will reach the Ring tomorrow morning." If the address worked, and if the Atlanteans sent their communications device in answer, if Readan managed to make himself understood... Readan spoke very little of the trade language, and Vanrin had had to teach him the message by rote. But he couldn't leave the camp to go himself. There were decisions that had to be made here. If no help came, the decisions would become much harder.

"We know they live in a city of the Ancestors, but did they ever say how close it was to their Ring?" Banat asked. "If it takes a long time for the message to be carried from their Ring to their city..."

Vanrin shook his head. He knew John would help them if he could, but he knew that John might not be there to receive the message himself. If help was granted, there was no judging how long it would take to arrive, how long it would take Readan to guide them back here. "We won't know for days yet." He sighed and clapped Banat on the shoulder, pretending he wasn't near dead from exhaustion himself. "Come, we'll need to go for water again tonight."

  
***

  
Vanrin had forgotten how swiftly the Atlanteans could travel.

The next morning, he was tying the empty waterskins to the sumpter's saddle, wearily preparing for another trip to the nearest safe spring, when someone shouted.

Several men were in the open, pointing up, and for a moment his heart froze. _Wraith,_ he thought, and _why are they just standing there?_ Then his eyes found the square silver craft, floating in midair.

The camp stirred like a startled insect nest; some were afraid, while those who had seen the Atlanteans before waved to it and called out reassurances to the others. The craft hesitated, as if making sure of its welcome, then began to slowly drift toward an open area at the edge of the camp.

By the time Vanrin reached it, it had settled to the ground in a cloud of dust, and the back side was unfolding to become a walkway. As it opened fully, he saw there were at least a dozen people milling inside, all in the gray and black that the Atlanteans wore. Readan bounded out first, saying, "You would not believe how fast--"

Then John was walking down the ramp, carrying unimaginably deadly weapons, wearing the heavy garments that pretended to conceal everything, but just drew attention to his slim waist and the curve of his lower back. "Vanrin, Readan said a bunch of people had been poisoned?"

Vanrin managed to reply, "Yes, we know it must be the nearest well, but the sickness it caused is unusual." He realized Readan was right, he didn't believe it. He hadn't really thought help would come, or not soon enough to make a difference. He knew this was how tribes died, trapped in the open desert by bad water holes; part of him had already given up.

The other Atlanteans were coming out of the craft, men and women both, burdened with crates and strange devices. John touched the communications device in his ear and said, "Stackhouse, this is Sheppard. Dial base and tell them we're going to need the big water tanks, the supply here is contaminated." He looked at Vanrin closely, and must have seen that he was dazed. "Hey, it's going to be okay. We're going to figure this out."

Vanrin squeezed his shoulder in gratitude, shock turning to relief. "Yes, I think we will."

  
***

  
John was worried about Vanrin, who looked like he hadn't slept in days. But the first thing they had to do was get Beckett and his medical team started.

Most of the Tasiben who were still mobile enough to help with the sick had already gathered around the jumper. John was glad to see that the group included Doctor, the Tasiben version of Beckett, except much older and much more naked.

Beckett had brought enough equipment for a portable lab, plus several nurses and med techs. John had brought his team and four extra Marines, and stationed Stackhouse's team with Jumper Three at the gate for coordination and backup. Readan knew more English than John knew Tasiben, but he hadn't been easy to understand. John hadn't been sure if they were looking at providing assistance on the ground or coordinating a full evacuation.

With Vanrin translating, there was a three-cornered conversation between Beckett and Doctor, with several other Tasiben listening worriedly, while John got the teams started on the unloading.

"They don't sound thrilled," Rodney pointed out, carrying a crate over to the stack. "I have the feeling that the usual quality of offworld medical assistance in this galaxy doesn't inspire confidence."

John had been keeping one ear on the conversation and knew he was right. "Give it a few minutes, we just got here."

Hauling a bag of supplies, Teyla put in, "Most of them have never been through the gate, so I can understand why they might be doubtful."

Then Banat, the old guy who had been John's chaperone on his first stay here, dragged over a large folded tent.

"That's for us?" John asked, trying to get the question across with gestures. "For the lab?"

Banat nodded and with various gestures indicated that this was for the Atlanteans to use. John called over Ford, Ramirez, and Audley. "Ford, we're going to help set up this tent."

"Yes, sir," Ford said, eyeing the pile of leather tarp and braided rope. "Wouldn't it go faster if we just let them do it?"

John bit his lip, and had to concede the point. "Probably, but we're going to help anyway."

It actually went a lot quicker than John had expected, mainly because all Banat needed was people to hang on to the ropes and help unroll the tarps. They had the tent about halfway up, when Vanrin waved John over, saying, "Doctor wants to see your feet."

"What? Oh." John sat down on the sandy ground and started unlacing his boots. Doctor crouched down, waiting impatiently. He looked exhausted too, though under all the gray hair, beads, and bones it was harder to tell.

When he had his boots off, Doctor ran a calloused thumb over the faint scars on John's feet, making a show of checking Beckett's work. The other Tasiben gathered nearby leaned over to watch. Beckett said, "You wouldn't believe what we had to do to him to get him to stay off his feet long enough to recover."

Vanrin translated this for Doctor, then listened to Doctor's reply. He smiled faintly. "He says he would believe it."

"Hey," John protested.

Doctor nodded approval, gave John a pat on the head, then stood up and addressed the crowd, gesturing broadly to Beckett.

"I think you're getting your license to practice medicine on Tasiben," John told Beckett, wrestling his boots back on.

"What about the blood tests?" Beckett asked Vanrin. "Did he agree to that? I can demonstrate the procedure on the Major if he wants to see it."

"Or Ford," John pointed out. "I think it's Ford's turn." Taking blood for analysis wasn't common knowledge in a lot of the non-technological cultures, so they were used to having to do the human pincushion demonstration.

Vanrin told Beckett, "He is explaining that to them now, and tells them that he understands the principle as you have explained it and feels it is necessary." He added wryly, "He is also making the point that we have asked for your help and that it would be rude to object to your methods. They are agreeing."

Beckett looked relieved. "You all don't know what a relief it is to work with reasonable people for a change."

"Yeah, normally he just has to work with us," John said, getting to his feet. There was a crackle in his headset and he looked up to see Jumper Three circling the camp. "That's Markham with the water tank," he told Vanrin. "Where do you want to put it? It's pretty big."

Vanrin shaded his eyes to see the jumper. "How long will it last?"

John shrugged. "As long as you need it. When it runs out, we'll bring out another one, take this one back to refill." For a moment Vanrin just looked floored. John asked worriedly, "Hey, you okay?"

Vanrin laughed a little, and squeezed John's shoulder again. "Yes. Now."

  
***

  
After setting up the power transfer from the jumper and getting Carson's portable lab up and running, Rodney worked with the other non-medical personnel, carrying water from the tank to the tents, being asked repeatedly why he hadn't discovered an anti-gravity lifting device, and explaining acidly to the Marines why _Star Wars_ wasn't always the best indication of what Ancient technology might have to offer.

Finally they had the water and supplies distributed throughout the camp. Then Rodney fixed the big holographic display for the Ancient scanner, yelled at the techs for breaking it, then went looking for Sheppard. He found him standing in the entrance to one of the tents, gazing thoughtfully off across the camp. He was holding a Tasiben baby that was determinedly gumming a pocket flap of his tac vest. Rodney frowned. "Where did you get that? I thought it was just the male tribe here."

Sheppard absently bounced the baby, which gurgled and grabbed for his lower lip. "They had a small group of women and kids with them, taking them back to the winter caves. The kids were too young to travel far, and it's a shorter trip this way."

"'Were?'" Rodney was uneasy at the choice of words. "That's not the only one--"

"No, no, they're okay," Sheppard said hurriedly. A harried med tech stepped out of the tent and Sheppard handed off the baby. "The women aren't in such great shape. They were giving all their water to the kids, but Beckett thinks they'll make it."

"That's a relief." Because granted, this wasn't the first time they had had people help them because they were desperate to get into Sheppard's pants, but it always ended badly, and this hadn't. And tumbling out of the gate from Icy Death Planet to be saved by armed naked women was a fond memory that was going to last Rodney a long time.

And he knew what would have happened to Sheppard if Vanrin hadn't gotten him out of the Isveni camp.

Then Sheppard touched his headset, his gaze sharpening. "Hey, Beckett's found something."

  
***

  
They had the meeting outside the lab tent, because Doctor had conked out earlier and was asleep on a cot inside.

"Well, we've found it, and the Tasiben were right, it was a contaminant," Beckett said, once they had gathered around. "Fortunately, it's not going to cause anyone any permanent damage. The biggest danger was dehydration from the nausea. Now the odd thing is, we were expecting to find some sort of bacteria, but this looks more like a toxic compound. I've sent the blood samples back to Atlantis so Biro can have a look for it in the full medical database, but I need a water sample from the contaminated well itself."

Vanrin frowned, shaking his head. "There is no one out here who would poison a well. There are other tribes in the deeper desert, not part of ours, but we all use the wells."

"What about the Isveni?" John said. When Readan had first shown up and said "poison" the first thing he had thought of was Isveni, either a new group who had managed to get through while the gate was unguarded or survivors hiding out somewhere. "We can't be sure we got all of them."

"But would they poison a well?" Rodney asked. He waved a hand. "Wait, let me rephrase that. Of course they would poison a well, but would they be able to do it this effectively? Remember, we aren't talking about the brain trust of the Pegasus Galaxy."

Vanrin frowned, shaking his head. "I agree, I am not certain they would even be able to survive this long in the desert, let alone find that well." He told Beckett, "I will get a sample of the water for you."

Still thinking of Isveni, John caught his eye, and said, "I'll come with you."

  
***

  
Beckett needed Jumper One's supplies and power sources, and Jumper Three was changing out the water tank, so they were going to take one of the buffalo-things. John had never seen them do anything but stand like furry rocks, but when they walked up to the one tied outside Vanrin's tent, it stretched its big head out toward him, making snuffling noises. That was when he noticed just how wide its jaw was. He stopped. "Uh, does it bite?"

"Not you." Vanrin grinned at him, and swung up onto the creature's back. He held down a hand to John. "When I first brought you to the caves, the others wondered if the Isveni had kept you for some time and starved you. I told them that you were too strong to be starved and that they would know that if they had had to wrestle you onto the back of a sumpter."

"Hey, you scared the hell out of me." John took his hand, got a foothold on the saddlepad, and swung awkwardly up behind him. Settling in, he managed not to do the first thing that occurred to him and nuzzle the back of Vanrin's neck. There were long straps on the saddlepad to hold onto, as if the animal was meant to be ridden by several people at once. It took a step, the muscles rolling under the furry back, and John grabbed the strap. It was like riding a large walking couch.

They headed away toward the angular shapes of the rocky outcrops in the distance. The yellow-tinted sky was mostly clear, only a few clouds and a little dust in the air. Looking back at the camp, John saw there was somebody standing on top of the jumper, filming DV. He guessed who it was by height and weight, and keyed his radio to say, "Lieutenant Ford, Private Yamato is requesting a job, preferably involving latrines."

"Yes, sir. Fortunately, Nurse Harpreet is looking for somebody to help with bedpans," Ford replied, as the figure scrambled off the jumper.

Vanrin laughed. "You are very strict with them."

"Not really." John grinned, thinking about how Bates would react to that statement. Then he realized he was riding into the desert on an alien planet on a short bantha. _Some days, this job is pretty cool,_ he thought.

After a moment, Vanrin asked, "What did they do to you? To make you recover, as Beckett said."

"Oh, that." John looked toward the mountains, dark outlines against the sky. "I had to go to the Mainland and live with Teyla's people, the Athosians, for a month."

"This does not sound like a terrible fate."

"Yeah, well, I thought they were sending me away for a different reason," John admitted. He shifted uncomfortably, only partly because of the sumpter's rolling gait. "I'm not big on being sent away, even for my own good."

Vanrin let that go for a moment, then said, "There is something I always wondered about."

"What?" John asked warily.

"Why do none of the others have pointed ears?"

They were far enough away from the camp by that point, so John bit him in the shoulder.

"That is not an acceptable question," Vanrin guessed, sounding amused.

  
***

  
They had been riding for nearly an hour, and for a while it had been obvious that a storm was coming up. The gray clouds were getting that particular yellow tint John could recognize now, and the wind was turning fitful.

The outcrop that sheltered the well had been growing steadily closer, and John figured they were only a couple of miles away when the sumpter stopped abruptly. "Storm," Vanrin said, sounding startled.

John twisted around to look. "Crap!"

In the distance, a giant brown wall was rolling across the desert, heading toward them. John keyed the radio. "Ford, this is Sheppard. We've got a big storm coming out of the north--"

"South," Vanrin corrected, urging the sumpter to kneel down. "And tell him to tell the others it is a sa-bedin."

"South," John amended, "And tell the Tasiben it's a sa-bedin."

"Copy that, Major." From Ford's voice, he was running, and John could hear excited voices in the background. "Do you need assistance? Should we take the jumper out to--"

"Negative, there's no time." They had five minutes at best before it hit. "We'll be okay where we are." Or at least John hoped so.

As soon as they were off its back, the sumpter sank down into the sand, tucking its head in and becoming a large furry rock. Vanrin pulled a couple of cords in the saddle pad and unfurled a big leather flap. John grabbed the edge, helping him stretch it out. One side was permanently attached to the saddle pad, so the whole thing formed a lean-to against the side of the animal. Vanrin used a heavy metal stake to ram one corner into the ground. At his urgent wave, John ducked underneath, scooting in close to the sumpter's furry side. It was dark under there already, the air thick and musty with the scent of the animal's fur. Vanrin ducked in after John, working to get the other side staked down.

The last of the light vanished as Vanrin got the flap sealed. John felt him crawl up next to the sumpter and shifted over to make room. It had already been clear to John that this was not your normal storm, not the kind that the Tasiben had used as cover against the Isveni, not the kind that were just inconvenient. When Vanrin put an arm around his shoulders, pulling John down into his lap and huddling over on top of him, John knew it was even worse than he had thought. He wrapped an arm around Vanrin's waist and hung on.

The storm roared over them, wind and sand hitting with an almost explosive impact. John flinched, felt Vanrin tense; a vibration traveled through the sumpter's body, as if it had groaned in protest.

_Maybe that was the worst,_ John thought. His ears were ringing, but at least they were still breathing, and the tent hadn't collapsed. After a time Vanrin sat up, some of the tension leaving his body. John pushed himself up, but the wind was still too loud to ask if the chances for survival were rising or falling.

Then Vanrin brushed a thumb against his cheek, slid his hand to the back of John's neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Startled and amused, John snorted against his mouth. Hopefully this was relief that they were going to live.

John twisted for a better angle and got jabbed by the P-90. Swearing, he pulled away from Vanrin to snap it off his vest strap and set it aside. By that time he could feel Vanrin shaking with laughter. John grabbed his shoulders and straddled his lap.

They were kissing like teenagers, it was dark, there was no air, and no room to move. All John needed was a gear shift wedged into his kidney to trigger a flashback. Vanrin had tugged his tac vest and jacket open and had one hand under John's shirt and the other down the back of his pants.

Then John heard something that wasn't the wind. They both froze at the same moment. _That was a voice,_ John thought. Somewhere outside their shelter, over the dying wind, someone had shouted.

Vanrin eased back, whispering, "Do you hear--"

"Yeah." John kept his voice low. He took his hand out from under Vanrin's kilt to fumble for the base unit of his radio. "Somebody from the camp?"

"No." Vanrin lifted John off his lap. "They know we took shelter, they have no reason to come after us."

John keyed the radio and whispered, "Ford, come in, this is Sheppard."

Ford replied almost immediately, "Yes, Major, this is Ford."

"What's your situation?" John picked up the P-90. He heard Vanrin shifting around, moving to the edge of the tent.

"We're secure. The storm hit pretty hard, but none of the tents came down." Over the radio, John could hear voices in the background, speaking in English and Tasiben, and a tent flapping in the wind. It all sounded calm and normal.

"Copy that. Did anybody from camp come up here after us?" A line of gray light appeared as Vanrin edged the flat up a little to peer out. John crawled over to join him. He squinted, but all he could see was sand and blowing dust.

"Negative, sir." Ford's voice sharpened with concern. "Sir, do you need assistance?"

"Not just yet." Then Vanrin nudged his shoulder and pointed. John caught a glimpse of movement, realized it was the furry feet of another sumpter. John told Ford, "Looks like there's somebody else up here. If I don't contact you in twenty minutes, scramble a jumper."

"Affirmative, sir."

There was another shout from outside. Vanrin pushed the tent flap up and stood.

John scrambled out after him in time to see a startled group of men back away. They were all Tasiben, big guys, with tattoos, piercings, but there was something different about them. John realized the tattoos were different from the ones worn by Vanrin's tribes. The designs were blocky and crude, not as finely detailed, and the colors weren't as vibrant.

For a long moment everybody just stared. Three sumpters were standing not far away, shaking the sand out of their fur. Then Vanrin said something to the men in Tasiben. Nobody replied. John pushed to his feet slowly, standing next to Vanrin.

For a long stretch of a moment, nobody said anything. The strangers stared at Vanrin, and stared at John. It occurred to John he had no idea what Tasiben intertribal relations were like, if these guys were enemies or just strangers. And he felt stupidly exposed, standing here with his vest and jacket open and his shirt hanging out, and possibly a hickey on his neck.

Vanrin spoke to them again, and finally one of the men replied. They talked back and forth for a few moments, and John was getting the idea that Vanrin didn't like what he was hearing.

Not taking his eyes off the men, Vanrin said to John, "He says his name is Selan. They are deep desert people. They have heard of offworlders but not seen one before."

John was getting a bad vibe here. There was a distinct sense of hostility in the air. But these men weren't armed, and he didn't want this to end with him shooting anybody. But he wasn't going to let it end with him and Vanrin getting jumped, either.

There was another conversation, and Vanrin was starting to look angry. He said tightly, "I am asking him if he knew the well had turned bad, and he will not give me a clear answer."

The same man, Selan, spoke again, then started toward them. He stopped barely a pace away, jerked his head toward John, and said something that made Vanrin's eyes go hooded and his whole body tense.

_Oh great,_ John thought, his eyes narrowing. Selan apparently had a problem with Vanrin being out here with an offworlder, and it looked like he meant to make an issue of it.

Selan started to step forward, still looking at John. Then Vanrin planted a hand in Selan's chest and shoved him away, hard enough to make him stagger back and nearly fall.

John tightened his grip on the P-90; if this escalated, he was going to shoot in the air first, and just hope that scared them off.

Selan stood there for a long moment, then threw one more dark look at Vanrin before he turned away, going back to the others. The whole group retreated, climbing up onto the waiting sumpters and heading off across the desert.

John let out his breath, relieved. They stood there, watching the figures grow smaller with distance. Vanrin finally said, grimly, "That was unpleasant."

"Yeah." John looked around. The rest of the landscape was empty, just rolling swells of sand, stretching out to the sharp outlines of the rocks. "So were they heading toward the well, or were they following us?" Because if this group had trailed them from the camp, it meant they had been watching from a distance, knowing Vanrin's tribe was in trouble, and doing nothing to help. And ten extra men could have carried a lot of water in the past few days.

Vanrin sighed, and dropped an arm around John's shoulders, squeezing absently. "That is a good question."

The sumpter stood up, shaking the sand out of its fur, spraying them both.

  
***

  
"That," Vanrin said, startled, "was not here earlier."

John swung down off the sumpter. "Yeah, I think you guys would have noticed that."

The well was in the rocks at the base of the outcrop, but it was barely visible now. The bluff above it had collapsed in a jumble of sand and gravel, revealing a smooth section of pewter-colored metal. Ancient metal.

"I had noticed the rock was eroding, but none of this was visible." Vanrin slid down off the sumpter. "This is of the Ancestors?"

John nodded, picking his way through the rocks for a better look. "And I bet that's where the poison in the well came from. If the ground shifted, it could have broken through all kinds of conduit, leaking who knows what into the water." He tapped his radio. "Ford, this is Sheppard. We're going to need that jumper after all. And Rodney."

  
***

  
It was late that evening, the sky going dark purple with twilight, when John got a relayed call from Stackhouse, telling him Atlantis had requested he return to base to deal with a problem with one of their other trade partners.

Rodney, Teyla, and Ford had come in Jumper Three to help do the initial survey of the well site, and Rodney had been pretty intrigued with what he had been able to find so far. John broke the news to him, and he bitched a lot about not being able to stay out here all night trying to find a way into the bluff, then admitted that this was actually a job for Archeology and Geology and he wouldn't be able to do much of anything until they got inside the structure, whatever it was. That settled, John went to look for Vanrin, and found him on the other side of the rocks with the sumpter.

"There is news?" Vanrin asked. He was checking the animal's big flat feet for gravel and straightened up as John approached.

"Not about the camp. Everything's still fine there." John said reluctantly, "We got a call from base, I need to get back. I'll leave Sergeant Stackhouse and the other Marines at the camp with Beckett's team, until your people are back on their feet."

Vanrin regarded him for a moment, then smiled a little. "I do not know what I can do to thank you."

John had several ideas of how Vanrin could thank him, but the request to return to Atlantis had ruined those plans. "Rodney's going to want a better look at this place, and we might be able to seal off whatever's leaking, do something about the well." He patted the sumpter's broad forehead, and it groaned and leaned toward him. "We'll be back."

Vanrin stepped close, brushed his fingers against John's cheek. He said seriously, "I know what your people's rules are and I had meant to stop breaking them, to return their prince to them unmolested this time, but I lost my resolve."

"Yeah, there wasn't much time for molesting," John agreed glumly. The sumpter nudged him and John stumbled into Vanrin's chest. "Okay, that was an accident."

Vanrin cupped his chin, then from behind the rocks, John heard Rodney say, "They're back here, doing a scene from _The French Lieutenant's Woman_."

John swore. He heard Ford tell Rodney, "You know, if I was him, I'd punch you in the mouth."

Teyla cleared her throat and said, loudly, "Major, we are ready to leave."

Vanrin sighed and reluctantly let John go. "Return when you can."

  
**end**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Foreign Affairs II [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1864035) by [librarychick_94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/librarychick_94/pseuds/librarychick_94)




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